


Tale of the King’s third son

by skyes



Series: If you were Oz [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: First part of the series, I'm an esl so help is much appreciated, M/M, Mage AU, and now he returns, hope you'll like it, not much happening for now but hey, tim left the family, yaaay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyes/pseuds/skyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim loved his life as Robin - and very much disliked it as Red Robin. He didn't feel needed after the arrival of Damian, so he did what every almost-seventeen-years-old would have done: he ran away. And he ran fast and he ran far. And so, he ended up in Purefly.</p>
<p>And now, after seven years, he returned. Gotham has not changed.</p>
<p>Tim, however, did. </p>
<p>And a bit to his surprise, so did Damian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tale of the King’s third son

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first part of my first series, If you were Oz. It's an au, where Tim left the family and became a mage, and when he returns to Gotham, things aren't easy. I know not much happens in this first part, but I needed to write a prologue or something. For questions, comments, please come and talk to me on [tumblr](http://skyestales.tumblr.com/).

If Tim was honest with himself, he was a coward, without any doubt. He was utterly defeated by an eleven years old kid, and when he realized he became the last on the loved ones’ list, he didn’t know anymore where his place on this earth was. So he did what every coward would have done: he ran and he ran fast, and he ran far.

He never was the first on that list, he knew that. He hadn’t even tried to be a match of Dick, and he knew he hadn’t had a chance against the dead son either to begin with. The golden boy and the prodigal son – his ancestors, his brothers whom he loved with all his heart, and even if he was jealous at times, they didn’t live under the same roof, so he could believe that he is essential to the victory, to Gotham, to Batman and that is why he accepted easily the place of the bronze medalist. It was enough just to be with Bruce, work with him, _help him_ , he felt needed. And also… he was the youngest prince – the one who was destined to do great things. Or so the tales said.

Tim was a fan of fairy tales and being the third son of the King was a rather appealing role to play.

Then something unexpected happened. Namely the appearance of Damian Wayne, the real son of Batman, who claimed the uniform and the name of Robin. The one who instantly became the youngest child, the new prince…

The son who really was someone destined to do great things.

Damian Wayne stole the main role from Tim naturally, and so Tim found himself becoming _just_ the third son – without any important part to play or special line to say. He became insignificant and was sure that soon enough he would be also forgotten.

He realized how much he feared that. And his fears were becoming reality really fast.

They ditched him, tore the Robins’ R from his chest and so he transformed to Red Robin, but he knew the best from all how empty that title was. Red Robin was just a boy who desperately wanted to get back to the place where he stood before, and failed miserably.  He couldn’t bear it. He lost his parents, all he had left was Bruce and his brothers and now he felt like they didn’t need him anymore and that thought tore him apart mercilessly. So if he didn’t have his parents, and there wasn’t anyone who needed him, then where could he go?

He had no idea. Not to mention that their relationship with Damian was more than bad. After Damian’s first attempt to kill him, Tim decided he needed to leave.

So first, he traveled to San Francisco and hide in the Titan Tower, barricaded himself in his room. For a while he was just staying with the Titans, solved some mysteries and participated in some missions and when Bruce called him to get him home he refused, there were too much to do, he said. And since Batman had _another Robin,_ he just left him be much to Tim’s despair.

And– although he didn’t think it was possible– it got worse.

The new Robin couldn’t be reined and a genius Bruce was, he figured he should just send the boy to make some friend, to socialize with others. And where else could have the new boy wonder gone than to the Titans? Yeah. Tim wasn’t happy.

Damian came to conquer the last bastion of his life. He lost hope but made sure no one could see that on him. Except maybe Bart cause the speedster saw _everything_ and they were best friends after all. But no matter how many times he asked Tim about it, he was committed to pretend that everything was alright.

And the day after Damian arrived to the tower, Tim left.

And there, our story has begun.

\--

“Hey, it’s time to rise and shine,” Noah yelled and just to make sure that Tim heard him, he kicked his foot that was hanging from his bed.

“Five more minutes,” he murmured and turned to the wall to escape from the noisy boy with blanket covering his ears. A couple of years ago this sentence probably wouldn’t ever have left Tim’s mouth, but since he was living here in the castle, he learnt to appreciate a good seven hours sleep. He learnt to do and _be_ a lot of things. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but he felt alright, he felt complete.

“I ain’t no have five more minutes, you dickhead! Get out of that damn bed, I don’t wanna be late from our own name-giving!”

As if the last part was some kind of spell, Tim opened his eyes and realized what day it was.

“Fuck,” he said then simply and sat up, his motions close to a blur. A second later he added, “Shit.”

“Exactly, man,” Noah nodded seemingly satisfied with his roommate finally moving. “We have like twenty-three minutes to get to the hall, so if I were you, I would be in a hurry.”

“Shit,” Tim repeated, but got out of the bed fast, and started to look for some nicer clothes and matching socks – the latter proved to be a rather difficult task but he managed somehow, as it was expected from a former Robin.

Oh god, _how many times_ did he hear that sentence, he couldn’t count anymore. He was _just_ a former Robin in most of the people’s eyes, even here. He fought really hard to leave that behind him, and this day, _now_ , he may be able to do that finally. Tim will get a mage name, a new identity, something _new_ he can describe himself with. The effort of the past seven years, all the challenges were going to be end on that day, and he was so happy about it, he didn’t even have words.

Noah was leaning to the doorframe waiting for Tim, and the other boy looked rather impatient while Tim got dressed. This line-up was pretty unusual, normally it was Tim who woke Noah up, since Noah was the younger one, the rash one, the one needed to be taken care of. This, now, the rush in his voice, and _presence_ really, just showed how excited the redhead was.

Tim didn’t needed twenty-three minutes, he was presentable in seventeen, and he was quite proud of himself. They left the dormitories. All the rooms were quiet- not what they were used to. Not that it was full anyway, being a mage wasn’t really a good business anymore, not to mention how hard it was to _find_ this place, to get _accepted,_ so there were only five people beside him and Noah- and only one of these seven wannabe-mages was girl, so yeah, they could be really loud, boyishly loud. Not today, though.

No, this day was special.

They were the last to arrive, much to Tim’s embarrassment if he was honest. The mentors didn’t seem like they were angry though, so he and Noah walked to the center of the hall, they passed a bunch of redheads and Tim could only guess it was Noah’s family. They had all the other students down and the three mentors as well.

Tim’s family haven’t been presented. He probably didn’t even have a family anymore, not by blood anyway. And he was sure that they didn’t know where he headed to all those years ago, when he decided to run away from the… _inconvenience_. He knew how to cover his trace, and he did it well, he didn’t doubt that. Not that he wanted any of them here. The bat family wasn’t a family of mages and metas or supernatural. They were a bunch of normal guys and girls, who made super efforts and got great minds so they had a chance against whatever this or any other world could throw at them.

Tim was fairly sure he had broken that tradition when he moved in a magic school and started to learn weird spells. He was fairly sure he didn’t care anymore, though, too. He didn’t owe with anything to anyone anymore. At least, he was telling himself that.

“I told you, boys, they made it,” said the tallest mentor. They called her Lena and she was probably Tim’s favorite, although he loved all three of them. The woman looked eternally young even if Tim was sure she was way over sixty.

“Did you make a bet?” Noah asked with a grin on his face- an expression Tim knew very well.

“Of course we did,” Lena clicked her tongue. “I won as always. You are here, and if we don’t wait for anyone else, then we might as well shall start it.”

The ceremony was familiar to Tim, he sat through six of them already. The mentors had chosen a name for each of the students and on the last day of their studies, they gave out those names, burnt the letters on their wrists invisible to normal people’s eyes. Tim couldn’t wait to have his. Couldn’t wait to have a name on his own, one that he doesn’t have to share with someone else, a name he has by right and wasn’t just passed onto him.

On this day he would not be _any_ Robin anymore, he would be something entirely different, and that was just perfect.

He knew the spells Koh, another mentor had been murmuring, knew the letters he had written in the air; they were long and italic and _beautiful,_ and he honestly was more than okay to have them on his skin.

Noah was the first given: the boy was fidgeting and grinning, only became still when Bird, their third mentor, stepped out and reached for his hand. There were no ceremonial words, no big promises instead they had millions of little glittering stars in the air and the feeling of belonging. Tim felt like he was becoming part of something bigger, this time for real. And this _something bigger_ wasn’t about to crush him, it was accepting him, embracing his body and mind, giving him power so for the first time in his entire life he actually got a chance to be who he really wanted to be. The only problem was that maybe he wasn’t entirely sure who wanted to become. He knew he wanted to be something else, but what did that even mean?

“From this day on, you will be one of us, shall everyone call you on the name Damon,” said Bird in an even voice, “after the great mage of the Greek.”

Noah let out a deep breath, that was a great name, and Tim was sure, the younger loved it, too. He, on the other hand breathed in and couldn’t breathe out, because at the end of the day, he was anxious about the name he would be given. He didn’t know what he was worthy to. He had seen Bird talking to Noah on lowered voice, so he turned his head- was pretty much sure this is not for his ears. And anyways, there was something else he could focus on.

His name was given by Lena. The woman stepped closer, reached out, grabbed his wrist and pulled it towards her chest. Tim blinked and tried to swallow the ball that materialized in his throat.

“From this day on, you will be one of us, shall everyone call you on the name Hermes,” said Lena, and Tim’s brain short-circuited for a moment actually, but that didn’t stop the older one, “after the god of thieves and travelers, wit and boundaries and roads, the messenger of gods.”

The young man was lost in his life once again, couldn’t even blink when Lena touched the tender skin of his wrist and Tim felt the moment of devouring heat and the pain of the letters burning _into him_.

“Why would you name me that?” he asked finally, his voice is low, less than a whisper.

“Because there is a war in you, Tim. You want to fit yourself into one image and one image only when you could be _so much more_. There are so many possibilities in you, closed in in your ribcage. You don’t have to be only one thing, my dear boy, you can be wit and wise, and you can be a sly thief, a pilgrim on the road, a messenger of the Great at the same time. You have the power in you, you always had. Don’t let your pusillanimity to defeat you before you even started.”

“I thought this name will give me a new identity, but you throw only possibilities at me again,” Tim said, his heart tight, his lungs not working efficiently.

“Oh, Tim,” Lena patted his head, “no name can do that. You and you only can fill a name with meaning, you and you only can set your own boundaries- or don’t set them at all. I chose this name so you can see that, and you can try all those things and become the person you really want to.”

“So what should I do now?” Tim’s voice cracked, even though he tried to keep it under control so hard. Lena put both her hands on his shoulders.

“I think,” she started “it’s time for you to go home.”

\--

Purefly. That was the name of the castle, and it existed between reality and dreams, in a magical land Tim found accidentally three months after he left the Titans. He still wasn’t sure about the how, or why, he was just… _there._ True, after a while he didn’t follow anymore which trains he took, he just went on, always with the next one available. And then he walked.

And then he stopped, because he faced with huge walls and a castle that couldn’t be compared to anything he had seen before. It was _magic_ , you know.

And he also stopped because in front of the gates there was an other boy standing with burning red hair and freckles and the brownest eyes Tim has ever seen. Also, the boy was smiling and that smile was childish, stunning… and _sly._

“You here to be a mage?” the boy looked at Tim, tilted his head to one side, his words are sloppy. Tim frowned.

“I don’t know. I just… kinda got here.”

“You can be anything in Purefly. Anything you want. I’m Noah by the way, it’s nice to meet you, Tim.”

Tim’s eyes opened wide.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” he protested, doubt and wariness gripping his organs, things he learnt to live with while he stayed with the bat of Gotham.

“Oh, I know you didn’t. But this is Purefly. And as I already told ya: you can be anythin’ in Purefly.”

And there it was again; the sly smile, the glitter in the eyes. Tim wasn’t sure how he felt about this strange boy, so he lifted his gaze to the building.

“You said _anything,_ right?” he asked, not really paying attention.

“Yeah. Let’s just go in, what do you think, pal?”

“Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Tim still remembered that first day, that first conversation with Noah. And here they were, seven years later. The redhead got really tall, neat muscles and long bones with less freckles but the same sly smile. That first day they packed out of bags, now they were packing in. They said hello, now they were saying goodbye. At that time, Noah was thirteen and Tim was almost seventeen and now the younger was already twenty and Tim only got a couple of months till his twenty-fourth birthday.

When he came here, he was a young vigilante- or a superhero, maybe. And now when he was leaving, he was a mage. A _wizard,_ maybe. He became Oz, without the mighty and powerful, probably.

He became Hermes.

He became the man of possibilities of becoming something more.

“So,” started Noah, lumping down on the mattress, “where do you wanna go? What will you do, Timmy?”

“I… honestly don’t know what _should_ I do,” he admitted, “but Lena told me that it maybe is time to go home,” he shrugged. Much to Tim’s surprise, Noah nodded.

“I think so, too. The way you left wasn’t the best, made it really hard for you to reach some closure. But you’re different now, you grew up. And nobody said that the only way of changing is tearing all the past out of yourself. I mean… why would you get rid of even the good things?” he spread his arms, one brow up.

“When did you become so wise, Noah?” asked Tim, but his lips slightly curling up. It wasn’t a real smile, an easy smile, but it was the best he could produce at that moment.

“Oh, I dunno, living with a bat for seven years does things to you.”

“Smartass,” Tim mumbled, with obvious love in his voice. “And what will _you_ do, No?”

Noah shrugged. “You know, I am from a family of witches and wizards. I’ll just continue the family business, I guess, maybe traveling around a bit before. And then, I too am going home.”

Tim hummed.

“No worries, Timmy. We won’t lose contact,” Noah grinned. The older sighed.

“You know, after seven years, I still don’t know how this mind reading trick of yours works,” Tim shook his head.

“It’s good to have secrets, still.”

“Yeah. Tell me ‘bout it.”

\--

Being in Gotham was weird. He hadn’t crossed the city borders for seven years, and he expected at least some changes, when he get off of the train and stepped out of the railway station. But there was… nothing. As if the last seven years haven’t happened. Everything was the same: the heavy rainclouds above the city, the fog, the smell of smog in the air, the deep shadows in the night. Gotham was just like when he had left her. He was thinking of renting a motel room, but then he decided on one of his old safe houses. The one he was sure none of the family was aware of.

It was strange, walking on the streets instead of flying over rooftops, or riding a bike, driving a car. He wasn’t Robin anymore, neither he was Red Robin, watchful protector of Gotham. No, he was Tim Drake, or -as mages called him- Hermes. And that, mysterious as it was, enough.

The penthouse was further away from the station than he had remembered. He crossed a rather lively part of the city, than a really quiet one as well. He could keep himself looking up to the sky, searching for any of the family. His family? Wasn’t sure.

He passed an alley, and he heard the noise. _Fighting._ Tim grow completely still, but his brain was working with supersonic speed. Should he interfere? Should he not? Was he still a hero, or being a wizard was something else? Was it duty still, or was it something he simply just wanted to do? His bag was heavy on his back, but Tim knew dozens of spells that could lessen the weight, could even make his body lighter.

Then, he heard a voice, a voice that was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t really identify.

“Oh, you bastard, you did not think that this was going to work, did you now?” a boy (or young man maybe?) said on that familiar voice, then Tim could hear the clattering of a blade, as a knife fell to the asphalt.  

Tim always had a curious personality, maybe a bit too curious even. He sneaked up on the corner of the alley, and peered over the edge. He had lifted one hand and wrote some runes in the air. “Brann,” he breathed out and, as soon as the word left his mouth, fire started to dance around his fingers. The fight was still going on, and his body moved on its own to enter the fight in the best possible moment. He saw four people and one more in the middle the four tried to take down. He shook his bag to the ground, there was nothing fragile in it anyway, and then just grabbed the closest guy’s collar. The thug was screaming and Tim couldn’t blame him, the fire was indeed really _fucking_ hot. Not that he could feel it.

It was so easy to move, so easy to land hits, easy to murmur spells that helped him fly and jump. Until another knife appeared, that is. Tim had to be fast to avoid it, and he tried, but wasn’t moving fast enough. He could feel the cold iron scratching his forehead, and a moment later, there was blood, running down, making it hard to see anything. Head injuries were always bleeding more, making the wound look more serious than it actually was. Tim could have tried stop it, but no question that would cause a blade stuck in his ribcage, so he decided to take down the guy first: the last one standing, apparently.

When the alley was calm again, Tim let out a sigh. He pressed one palm to his head wound and used his other to clean his left eye a bit, but before he could see the boy he helped, there was that voice again.

“I did not need help,” he said, with pout in his _voice_ , and that made Tim shrug, not bothered to turn his head in the end, until he didn’t stop the bleeding he couldn’t see a thing anyway.

“Maybe you are right, but I wanted to do it either way.”

Tim dig in his pocket and found a little rune that he always held close, than mumbled the words of healing.

“What are you any… Drake?” The _voice_ , startled this time, had Tim jerk his head towards its origin. The boy (maybe young man was more accurate, really, he thought) seemed just a bit familiar, but God, the uniform. He knew _that_ all too well.  

“Damian?” he asked, but his voice was nothing more than a whisper. The long black cape, all the yellow of sunflowers inside, the black trousers and the green and red – it was Damian’s uniform, it was Damian’s Robin. But was this really Damian? “You’re… tall,” he managed, and sounded miserable, Tim was very much aware of it. He could _hear_ the younger gritting his teeth, and Tim hated that sound but couldn’t point out the fact, because in the next moment Damian’s fingers were around his neck and Tim’s back was pressed to a wall hard.

“How did you do that with the fire? Drake is just a human, _why do you look like him?_ And how do you know my name? _”_

Tim sighed- or at least he tried to sigh with strong fingers blocking his air.

“Because _I am_ Tim,” he forced out. “I uh… I came back.”

Damian let go of him, and Tim sank down by the brick wall, panting. The younger one just stood there paralyzed, his arms fell down as he stared at Tim, without any word. He didn’t move while Tim cleared his pants and grabbed his bag. The silence was _very_ uncomfortable. Tim rolled his eyes.

“Will you say something? Or can I go? Or… what?”

“You think that is all to it?” Damian raised an eyebrow and angry wrinkles started to form on his face. He was very… menacing, Tim had to admit, especially as he folded his arms.

“I can’t see what else would there be,” Tim looked in Damian’s eyes and the younger one hold his gaze, as far as Tim could see through the opal lenses.

“Father thought you are dead. Grayson was looking for you for _one and a half year_. I think there is indeed much to talk about,” he hissed.

Tim tried to cover his surprise. In the end, he was the one, who broke the eye-contact. Damian was almost as tall as Bruce – as he remembered of Bruce at least, but less bulky, more… _lightsome._ His face must have been pretty without the mask, and for whatever reason, he wondered if his eyes were still that impossible green.

“You may be right. But this was a long day, and I’m tired. If I wanna talk, I know where can I find you,” Tim said as calm as he could manage. Damian tried to stop him, but Tim jerked his arm back, raised his hands and a second later there were yellow energy flowing around and between his fingers. “Careful, little Arabic prince. I may be Tim Drake, but I ain’t no the same boy, who left Gotham. You better let me go.”

Damian warily eyed him, but nodded finally.

“Understood.”

“Don’t follow me.”

“I will not. You have my word.”

This time Tim nodded. His heart was racing in his chest, but he couldn’t show it, he couldn’t let his guard down. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone from the family so soon, let alone Damian. He forced himself to not shake, as he exited the alley and walked towards his safe house.

_Oh, God,_ he thought, _when did Damian grow up?_


End file.
